An Unyielding, Horrifying Love - Book One of the Nickhoales Series
by MorningStar1399
Summary: After her mother died in a massive train bombing in which she was the sole survivor one year ago, 13-year-old Amy Nichhoales has become the target of a horrifying murderer. When the BAU comes to investigate, what they find is hard to make heads or tails of, but who said witnesses weren't 100% reliable in catching their suspect? Rating is for safety-this is kind of violent and sad.
1. Prologue

**Wednesday, January 3****rd****, 201l, 5:52 PM  
****On a train headed to Danbury, CT from Stamford, CT**

A young teenage girl sits on a train next to her mother, flying through the newspaper. She has already finished the crossword puzzle, the quote and word scrambles, and the suduko puzzle in under five minutes. As the train stops at the West Redding station, Dr. Spencer Reid of the BAU stands, grabbing his laptop bag, and walks past the girl, who has finished reading the paper and has opened a sketchbook to a very elaborate drawing of a dancer and a horse in pencil. Reid brushes his coat on her arm as he hastily puts it on, and the two lock eyes. She smiles, and Reid is forced to smile back. Before stepping onto the platform, he looks at her again, they lock eyes, and wave at each other. Then Reid heads to JJ, Will, and Henry's waiting smiles as the girl continues drawing.

Five minutes after Reid got off, however, a masked man comes into the car where the girl has just put everything of hers in her shoulder bag, anticipating her and her mother's stop in Bethel, where the two would walk home. The man holds a loaded gun, and aims it at the girl.

"You, come with me," he said, his voice accented with the tell-tale signs of a Brit.

"But-" the girl protests, but he sets his finger on the trigger.

"I'd hate to waste a perfectly good bullet on you or your mother, or anyone in this train," he said, waving it in the air when he mentioned the other passengers, who all have grown nervous. "Once again," he continues, aiming the gun again at her head, "come with me." When the girl didn't move, he grabbed her arm and dragged her towards the back of the train.

"I love you!" her mother cried.

"I love you too!" the girl responded, and then the train door separated them.

Once at the back of the train's last car, where the engineer's controls were, the man let go of her arm.

"Stay here. You'll survive if you do," he said, putting his gun away. With that, he left the girl in the compartment, blocking the door on his way out.

The sound of footsteps died quickly, and soon the girl began to panic. She was about to open the rear door to jump out in an escape attempt, when suddenly everything around her ceased to exist, flames taking their place, a loud _boom!_ reverberating through the her bones and ears. She landed fifteen feet away from the flaming wreckage of what used to be the train, safe in a soft patch of moss and grass and moist dirt. She tried to get up, but after a quick examination of her sore wrist and ankle, she determined she had a minor fracture in her wrist and most definitely a twisted ankle. Another pain, one burning and sharp, radiated up and down her spine-most likely her scoliosis acting up from the jolting from the explosion.

After assessing this information quickly, she began to scan the wreck for life with her eyes. Nothing moved, no sound was made by anything besides the flames and birds around her, and even then they were faint, as her hearing had been damaged slightly, until the armed man who had put her in the rear to save her life stood and trotted back towards West Redding with a slight limp, shouting, "I'll see you again, Amy."


	2. One

**Thursday, January 3rd, 2012, 11:42 PM  
Near 7-11 near Target store, Bethel, CT**

Amy Nickhoales laughed as her friends Shelly, Arthur, Annabelle, Sarah, and Rebecca walked over to Arthur and Annabelle's house from the 7-11 nearby after getting some candy for that night's sleepover. Sarah and Shelly, also siblings, planned on staying up all night with Amy-who barely slept after the death of her mother, leaving her parentless-and were busy convincing Rebecca and Arthur to stay up with them.

"No way," Arthur said. "I have to study for mid-terms. They're in a week."

Right. Arthur, being 16, had mid-terms in high school, and would need to catch up in class, which was not a problem for Amy.

"I'm pretty sure Amy could help you with that," Shelly said. "After all, with all that she knows, I'm surprised she's still in eighth grade."

"Yeah, and not in college!" Sarah said, nudging Amy with her elbow. Already the sugar was kicking in, and all she was doing was holding the bag with candy!

Amy smiled shyly, saying, "Well, Artie, it's up to you if you want to stay up or not. I'm not going to force you. And if you want my help, you only have to ask."

Arthur smiled. "Thanks, Am."

"Don't mention it," Amy said, returning the smile again, then waited for Rebecca to catch up. "How's your leg?"

Rebecca looked up from the ground as the girls and boy ahead of them continued goofing off. After tearing a muscle a month ago, Rebecca had been going in-between crutches and canes and braces quite often. This walk uphill must have been murder.

"I'm alright," she said, looking back at the ground as she swung her crutches forward.

Amy took her left hand out of her warm coat pocket to rub her friend's back reassuringly. "Take your time. I'll stay with you."

Rebecca smiled. "Thanks. You know, if you hadn't told me that a little under a year ago when I had fractured my pelvis playing field hockey and was in a wheelchair and you helped me get to and from classes, I don't know what I would have done. I'm glad I gained you as a friend."

Amy smiled warmly, brightening Rebecca's. "You would have made it, I have no doubt in that. I'm just glad we saved each other from further injury by quitting field hockey and joining the school orchestra full-time again and the musical." Amy laughed slightly. "Besides," she added, "I was showing someone the kindness someone else never showed me."

Rebecca recognized the pain on her face. "Am, I'm sorry."

Amy shook her head. "It's alright. It's all I'll be thinking about tonight anyways."

Rebecca looked confused. "Why's that? Shelly and Sarah-"

"-will end up falling asleep, I know it. That sugar's not going to last them," Amy said, looking at the twins, who were busy pouring Pixie Sticks in their mouths.

Rebecca laughed. "You and your facts." Then she grew quiet again, like she normally was. "Okay, so humor me: what time will they last till?"

Amy did the calculations in her head. "Well, if they divide the candy evenly between each other and eat every single piece of it and lick the wrapping for other traces of sugar, they should have enough energy to stay up until three in the morning. However, that will result in a major crash that will make them sleep in 'till, mmn, about one or two in the afternoon."

Rebecca was shocked. "Wow! I wasn't expecting you to answer me, if I'm telling the truth!"

"And you are," Amy said, looking at Rebecca's face.

"Gosh darn it, Am, you are too good at reading people! It gets on my nerves sometimes," Rebecca said, but then laughed. "Although it also comforts me at times."

"Oh?" Amy asked, confused.

"Well, take that man over there, for instance," Rebecca said, stopping to point in the direction of a male pedestrian bundled against the cold, walking on the other side of the sidewalk. "Can you tell me what he's feeling?"

Amy peered at him as indescretely as possible. "I'd say he's a little cold, since his shoulders are hunched so. And he's also got a pain in his foot or leg-he's limping slightly, you see. He could quite possibly be looking to buy some more alcohol for a party, but he doesn't have a car or something..." She trailed off as the man crossed the street, heading directly at the two of them.

"Amy..." Rebecca said, scared.

Amy stood still, frozen with fear as the man produced a knife from his coat pocket.

"Amy...!" Rebecca said, her voice growing shrill with fear as the man continued to approach.

But Amy couldn't move. The way he walked at them, at _her_, the way his face was covered, it was all too familiar.

"Amy!" Rebecca cried as the screeching of tires caused the two of them to involuntarily turn their heads in the direction of the sound.

There, under the car's tires, went Shelly, Sarah, Artie, and Annabelle.

"Amy!" Rebecca screamed, but her friend could not move.

"Run!" was what Amy shouted, forgetting her friend was on crutches. The sickening sound of bones crunching under tires was still audible, but Amy's head had turned back to the man, who had begun to stab Rebecca. She knew everyone would be dead soon if they weren't already-she knew _she'd_ probably be dead soon-but she still couldn't move.

Finally the man pulled the knife from Rebecca's body and raced in the opposite direction he had been heading, the opposite direction the car had gone in.

His parting words confirmed what Amy had been fearing: "It's nice to see you again, Amy!"


	3. Two

**Friday, January 4th, 2012 5:02 AM  
On the plane to Danbury Airfields in Danbury Connecticut**

Dr. Spencer Reid Sat at the table, a to-go cup of coffee in his hand, much like the other members of the team. Jennifer "JJ" Jareau was still rubbing the sleep from her eyes, Derrek Morgan chugging down yet another cup of black coffee, Aaron "Hotch" Hotchner trying to wake David Rossi for the fifth time. Already the team was off to a rough start.

Finally Hotch handed Rossi - who's finally up - and started the briefing. Opening the file in front of him, Hotch said, "I know it's early, but we have plenty of work to do."

Emily Prentiss gave a tired laugh. "Yeah, like 3 in the morning isn't already very early."

Hotch turned to look at her, controlled annoyance in his eyes. "Like I said, I know it's early, but this is a very important case. Already there were ten dead before last night, now there's fifteen."

Morgan jumped in his seat. "Fifteen dead? They wait for fifteen to die before asking for our help?"

JJ shot him a look. "Hey. They asked for our help a little while ago. I just got the case today. Murder isn't very common in the town of Bethel, Connecticut, so the police there wanted our help right away, fearing the worst."

"Why are you up so early?" Rossi said after a yawn, then downed his coffee.

"That's besides the point," Hotch said, bringing the team back to the matter on hand. "The case is most important."

"What are we waiting for?" Emily asked, one of the first to wake up fully, along with Reid.

"Garcia's information on last night's victims. We're trying to see if they are connected to the other victims first," Reid said quickly before Hotch could blow his top. Hotch gave him a relieved look.

Just then Rossi pulled out his phone, looked at the screen breifly, put it away, and brought out a laptop. He opened the screen and clicked an icon and Penelope Garcia's face showed up on screen.

"Well! We're all up early!" Garcia said, trying to brighten the mood as usual.

"Talk to us, baby girl," Morgan said, cutting to the chase.

"Okay, well, Arthur and Annabelle Cross were brother and sister -he was sixteen, she thirteen. Sarah and Shelly Carter were twins and both twelve, turning thirteen next month. Rebecca Galante was fourteen. Arthur was a Junior attending Bethel High School, Annabelle, Sarah, Shelly, and Rebecca attended Bethel Middle School. Shelly and Sarah were in seventh grade, Annabelle and Rebecca in eighth," Garcia explained quickly, displaying school photos along with general information on the screen. It soon returned to her face.

"And the witness?" JJ asked.

"Witness?" asked Garcia, confusion crossing her face.

"Yes, an Amy Nicole?"

"Oh! You mean Amy Nickhoales!" Garcia exclaimed, understanding what JJ meant.

"Yeah, her. What did you find on her?"

"Oh, well..." Garcia trailed, but from the looks Morgan and Hotch were making, she continued. "Okay. Amy Nickhoales is thirteen and currently attending Bethel Middle School. The other ten victims before last night's murders were her relatives-her brother Domonick Nickhoales, his wife and daughter Rachel and Grace, two aunts, two uncles, and three cousins. All were visiting Amy and Domonick, who had taken her in when their mother died in a massive train bombing in which Amy was the only survivor a year ago." The screen flashed with photos of the family killed, ending with a photo of Amy, then the screen returned to Garcia.

"And the father?" Hotch asked, paling.

"That's just it, sir. Amy's records don't include any male figure that would be classified as her father or other guardian besides her brother, and even then he was never her father," Garcia said.

"So someone goes and kills the entire family of this girl, and then kills five random people she happened to be around at the time?" Morgan asked. "That just doesn't make sense."

"Actually it does," Garcia said. "Rebecca, Annabelle, Arthur, Shelly, and Sarah were all Amy's best friends. They were having a sleepover at Annabelle and Arthur's house, since Amy is without a permanent residence at the moment. The interview the police conducted with Amy early this morning just came in. I'm sending it to your PDA's now."

As if on cue, six PDA's _ding!_ed electronically, and everyone pulled theirs out.

"You're good, girl," Morgan said, opening the file on the interview.

"I know," she said with a proud smile. "Is there anything else I can get you all?"

Hotch shook his head, his eyes not leaving the screen of his PDA. "Not at the moment. Thank you, Garcia."

Garcia smiled. "Alright then. I'll be here. Garcia out!" The screen faded to the BAU seal, and Rossi closed the laptop, still reading the interview.

Reid, who had finished the interview, started to examine the file Hotch had given him when boarding the plane. It included crime scene photos, information gathered from the autopsies of the first ten murders, information on the train bombing including injuries sustained by the surviving victim, and much more on the case.

The last item in the file was a photo much like the one Garcia showed briefly of the witness, Amy. Reid stared at it intently although that was hardly necessary. "I know her," he said absent-mindedly.

The team looked up from their PDAs' screens, Hotch rather reluctantly.

"What?" he asked.

Reid repeated himself.

"How?" everyone responded.

Reid shook his head. "It's a short story, really. A year ago as of yesterday, actually, I took a trip to Connecticut with Will, JJ, and Henry. I decided to go into the city on the last day of the trip, taking the train from the West Redding station to South Norwalk to Grand Central early in the morning. On the train home, it stops at the Merrit 7 station in Norwalk, Connecticut, and Amy and her mother get on. When the train stopped in West Redding, I got up, and was putting my coat on in the aisle when my arm bumped hers, and we looked at each other. She smiled, I smiled back involuntarily, and kept walking off the train. I felt as if she was still staring at me, so I turned to look at her again. Turns out she was, so I waved, she waved back, and I got off the train and Will drove us back to Quantico."

Hotch looked down at his PDA again quickly. "As of yesterday, it has been one year since the train bombing that killed Amy's mother." Looking again, he said, "What time was your train in the station?"

"Coming home?" Reid asked. He relayed the time.

Hotch paled even more. "If you stayed seven minutes later you would have been a dead man."


	4. Three

**Friday, January 4th, 2012 7:15 AM  
Bethel Police Station**

Reid stood outside the Police Station with JJ and Morgan as Hotch and Rossi talked to the detectives and officers inside. Emily had gone searching for a hotel for them to stay at. Every member of the BAU was shivering; the thermometer read 23 degrees Fahrenheit.

Morgan swore, "Damn! Is there a place to get coffee anywhere around here?"

"There are plenty," a young female voice said. Reid, JJ, and Morgan turned to their left to see a young girl wearing a navy blue, wool peacoat that was a bit too big for her. Her hands were jammed in her coat pockets, her jeans covered in snow and mud and splattered with blood from the crime scene. She wore black riding boots that were hidden under her dirty jeans, but her multi-colored scarf stood out from the bland outfit. Her waist-length, brown hair half-hid her narrow glasses, but her bloodshot, brown eyes told quite a story. They had filled with fright and saddness as well as anger and despair. Frozen tears clung to her eyelashes, but more had been wiped from her cheeks with a gloved hand - most likely her own. Her voice, however, was sweet and quiet, but definitely broken, as if she had lost one person too many. This was Amy Nickhoales.

"Thank you, young lady," Rossi said, walking out of the police station with Hotch behind him.

"Reid, JJ, Morgan, this is Amy Nickhoales," Hotch said, gesturing to the broken girl with a leather gloved hand. "Amy, this is Dr. Spencer Reid and Agents Jennifer Jareau and Derek Morgan."

Reid held out his hand. "Nice to meet you."

Amy smiled slightly, her eyes narrowed just as much, but she took his extended hand. "Yes, nice to meet you, too. Properly, at least."

Reid's eyes widened with shock. "You remember that?"

Amy laughed, releasing his hand. "How could I not? I saw you, didn't I? That, and the human brain tends to cling to something positive in a time of darkness."

"So the studies say, yes," Reid said, bringing his hand back to his side. "Wait-what do you mean by that-'I saw you, didn't I'?"

Amy's face contorted with discomfort. "I don't usually tell people this, but I have an eidetic memory."

Reid's eyes widened further.

Morgan smiled skeptically, looking at Reid's face. "Really?" he said slowly.

Amy's expression turned serious. "If you don't believe me, ask me to quote something or ask me some other kind of question."

"What's the equation for the Pythagorean Theorem?" Morgan asked quickly.

Amy laughed. "A squared plus B squared equals C squared. Really? We just learned that a few weeks ago, and I've known it since I was seven."

Morgan's face wrinkled with dissatisfaction.

Reid quickly came to his senses. "Can you quote Helena's soliloquy at the end of Act One, Scene One of Shakespeare's _A Midsummer Night's Dream_?"

Amy recited the soliloquy perfectly, then, when Morgan looked dumbfounded (and rather annoyed), she asked, "What bothers you the most, Agent Morgan? The fact that I have an eidetic memory, or the fact that you stand amidst two so-called 'geniuses?'"

This shocked everyone.

"Okay, then who is the other genius?" Rossi asked, testing her knowledge.

"Why, it's Dr. Reid," Amy replied. She turned to Reid. "It was quite easy, really. You can't be more than thirty years old, making you a rather young agent. Since you already have at least one PhD, I'm guessing you went to college at a very young age, but the only way for you to have done that is for you to have graduated high school at an even younger age - I'm going to say around my age - and-"

Reid stopped her. "Okay! Please stop, because you're right. Since when were you able to profile people?"

Amy looked confused, then relaxed, as if her questions had been answered. "Since I learned I have an eidetic memory. Reading people had been so easy, and it came in handy last..." She cut herself off suddenly, then started crying. "I'm sorry. It's just that...all of these murders are my fault. If I didn't exist, none of these people would have gotten hurt. No one's lives would be at stake because one man with a handful of mercenaries would be off doing whatever he would have had I not accidentally entered his life."

Reid caught her as she collapsed to the frozen ground, helping her back to her feet, his arms still wrapped around her.

"What makes you think his prime target is you?" Hotch asked as Emily pulled in.

Amy looked up, wiping her eyes with cream-colored, hand-knit gloved hands. "What?"

"In other words, why do you think he's targeting you specifically?" Reid simplified.

Amy stood fully, removing his arms gently. "There are two possible reasons. Since he's targeting only people I know and probably, in regards to the train you so narrowly missed, Dr. Reid, those that I am around at the time, he feels one of two emotions: hate or love. If he hates me, he wants to punish me for something I never did, and the best way for him to do that is by killing those I know, no matter how close they are to me. If he loves me, he knows that everyone I know would not approve of his affections, and therefore wishes to eliminate those individuals that I know, making anyone I meet in danger of a sad death."

No one questioned her about that theory, for in truth, she most certainly would be right.


	5. Four

**Author's Note:**

**Okay, so I hope everyone's been enjoying where this is going! I know the chapters are a little short, but all I can say is sorry for any disappointments. Also, I'm thinking of doing a sequel to this, but I don't know if I want to just get it all done in over with in one story. My idea for this is really long, so this could be almost thirty chapters long eventually.**

**One more thing-I forgot the disclaimer, so I'm going to add that now. Disclaimer: I own nothing..****.*sadface***

**And all of the ideas featured in this story and all my future stories are almost 100% my own, with some minor details from friends and fans. :)**

* * *

**Friday, January 4th, 2012 8:04 AM  
Bethel Police Department**

Inside, Hotch, Amy, and Reid were in a small office that would be used as a better place for questioning than the interrigation room. Emily had brought coffee, so Reid and Hotch both sported to-go cups from Dunkin Donuts in their hands, while Amy waited patiently for Emily and JJ to return with her hot chocolate.

Hotch began the questioning once he sat across from the young girl at the desk. "So, where and how would you like to begin?"

Amy shifted in her seat nervously. "Well..." She looked at the desk in front of her, took a deep breath, and began. "Well, it was obviously last night-eleven fifty four PM, to be exact-and Rebecca, Sarah, and Shelly were having a sleepover with me at Arthur and Annabelle's house. Sure, it was late, but this trip to the 7-11 was for candy so Shelly and Sarah could try to stay up all night with me so I wouldn't wake anyone with my screaming from nightmares allowing me to relive my mother's death, and now include the rest of my family's, too." Amy paused as emotion built up in her throat. When she continued, her voice cracked a little. "Rebecca had been on crutches since she tore a muscle in her leg-she wouldn't tell me which muscle, though-a few weeks ago, so I stopped so she could catch up as Shelly and Sarah kept pestering Arthur to stay up with them. I told Rebecca I knew they couldn't stay up all night, we got talking, and then she commented on my ability to read people. So, she pointed to a man walking our way from across the street. I told her he must be picking up stuff for a party, had an old leg injury with the way he walked with a slight limp, and looked away when he turned his course for us. But Rebecca got nervous, and started saying my name as if she wanted me to run. I couldn't, though. That man kept walking towards us, and soon he produced a knife and started stabbing Rebecca as a car came from his direction and ran over Sarah, Shelly, Arthur, and Annabelle. The sound of their screaming and the squealing of the tires as they turned and spun away from the scene should have made me run or even fight back but I just froze, just like I had last week when the same man killed my family. Well, what was left of it, at least." She looked up, tears in her eyes. "I don't know exactly who the man is, but I know that he must have seen an accent coach in the past year or so."

Hotch looked up from her file. "How do you know this?"

"Because his British accent was gone. At the explosion of the train he shouted to me, 'I'll see you again, Amy,' in a British accent. These past two times he ran away in the same direction shouting, 'Nice to see you again, Amy,' minus the British accent."

"It might not be the same man. Studies show-" Reid began.

"No, I know it is," Amy insisted. "The man at the bombing ran away limping. The injury must not have healed fully or properly, for he's still limping." Suddenly she looked up at the clock. "And now he's made me late for school."

Hotch shook his head. "I don't think you should go. Not with this much on your small shoulders. Stay here, where someone can be with you at all times, ready if you want to talk about this."

Amy looked up. "Who will stay with me here? I don't think it will be you, since you've got two crime scenes to investigate."

"I'll stay. Agent Hotchner won't be needing me in the field, anyways, and I want to understand your choices to be in a normal school when I started college at your age," Reid volunteered.

Amy nodded in agreement, so Hotch said, "So Dr. Reid will be staying with you. And you are most certainly right. I do have crime scenes and bodies to examine with my team."

With that, Hotch rose, closed the file, and walked out of the office.

Once the door had closed behind him and his footsteps had died, Reid said, "So! Why don't we get out of this depressing office and take a little walk inside the police department, since it's so cold outside?"

Amy nodded, a bit more cheerful. "Okay."

Once outside the office, Reid and Amy began walking slowly through the hallways of the Bethel Police Department.

"So, why haven't you changed your pants yet?" Reid said, noting the bloodstains.

Amy shook her head. "The answer to that one you actually can answer, but I'll answer it anyway. My clothes are either at Annabelle and Arthur's house or Domonick's, and both are now crime scenes, as well as Sarah and Shelly's, since I heard their parents were murdered last night, as well as Annabelle and Arthur's. No one's offered to get me a change of pants or clothes, for that matter, and I highly doubt anyone here is a size twelve-regular to fourteen-slim in jeans, so I can't even ask for a change of pants since I really don't think being half-naked in a police station would be a very good idea."

Reid nodded. "True, and you are right. Next question: why did you choose not to tell anyone about your memory?"

"That answer's easy, too, but not everyone understands my choice. Rebecca did, though. She was the only one who knew besides my family. I want the normal teenage experience. Maybe in college I'll mention my eidetic memory, but I'll only do that once I've gone to prom and Homecoming and graduation with my friends and other people my age. I hate being the youngest one in a room of extremely smart people and kids."

"I know what you mean. I was often picked on and bullied in school, but I really didn't have much of an option whether I went early. I never really had friends, either," Reid related, and Amy stopped and looked up at the agent.

"But now you do," she said, and threw her arms around him, letting the tears she had been restraining in the hallways roll free as Emily walked in with her hot chocolate.

* * *

**Friday, January 4th, 2012 8:24 AM  
Bethel Middle School, Bethel, CT**

A man dressed as a janitor walked through the halls of Bethel Middle School, carrying a ring of fake and/or copied keys at his hip and pushing a cart of tools and boxes in front of him. Students and teachers alike passed through the halls on their way to period one classes, but the man didn't care if they saw his face; all but three would be dead soon, anyways. One of the keys that were copied was the elevator key, and with that he turned on the elevator and pushed the button to go up.

Once upstairs, he found a rarely-used storage room and opened the door with another copied key, pushing the cart inside. Checking the door, he set to work, heading to the walls where nothing was stored and began unloading his boxes, drilling them to the walls and shelves so they wouldn't go anywhere. While he worked an electronic bell rang, signalling class was starting, but the man didn't care; he kept working, knowing it wouldn't matter soon whether kids were late or not.

After closing and locking the door behind him, he passed the classroom of a Mr. Fallow, stopping to listen to the music he had playing as he corrected papers. The man kept walking, shaking his head. Only two would survive after all.

Once all the storage rooms upstairs had a box drilled to the walls, the man headed downstairs, pushing the cart into the elevator. The downstairs storage rooms got the same treatment. The man then headed to the janitor's closet and dumped the cart and tools inside, walking towards the rooms he knew were where a Mrs. Meyes and a Mr. Bronsky held class. Mrs. Meyes was already outside of her classroom, so that just made his work easier. While her back was turned, he grabbed her, his hand clapped over her mouth, and dragged her out of the building to his van, knocking her out once inside. He quickly bound and gagged her and dumped her into a certain spot where no one would be able to see her no matter how hard she tried before leaving and re-entering the school, using another key to open the door to get back inside.

Mr. Bronsky, however, was in the middle of class, and, much to the man's happy surprise, talking about Amy and the recent murders. The man interrupted his class, asking him to step outside for a moment, and walked out, Mr. Bronsky in tow. The man told him he might have hit his car, and if he would just follow him outside, the two could find out if it was his car and settle the issue. Mr. Bronsky fell for the ploy and followed the man outside and to the van. Once next to the back doors, the man hit him in the head, knocking him unconscious, and tossed him inside the same way he had Mrs. Meyes. Once certain they would not be escaping, he closed and locked the doors, then got into the front seat of the van, and drove away.

Once he was out of sight and in the forest, the man stopped the van, turned on the stereo, opened his glove compartment, and pulled out a black box with levers and buttons covering it. With a sick smile, he pressed all the buttons, and lowered all the levers, then pressed the power button.

Back at the middle school, hundreds of little green and red lights inside those boxes turned on, a metalic beeping sound chirpped five times, and silenced. Ten seconds later, the school ceased to exist.

* * *

**Just another note-I had to make up teachers' names and all of that while still setting it in a real place. I hated writing that last part, but it had to be done, else the story wouldn't continue the right way.**

**I'm sorry to all those I may have offended or hurt-believe me, I really didn't mean it. I just want to write a story people will enjoy. So far, I must be doing a good job.**


	6. Five

**Author's Note:**

**So I'm really sorry I haven't added in a while, but the truth is I really didn't have time, what with school in full-swing and all. Also, I'm sorry most of this takes place at the police station, but that will change once I get farther into the story. The date will change, too, once I get certain ideas out and into this story. This one's more about the school, and maybe a little into dance class, or am I going to save that for the next chapter? I'll have to see when I get there!**

**This chapter/story may end up being a bit confusing, but I seriously don't know how else to put it.**

* * *

**Friday, January 4th, 2012 8:30 AM  
Bethel Police Department, Bethel, Connecticut**

Amy stood outside gathering fresh air, a Styrofoam cup of steaming hot chocolate in her gloved hands, but she didn't seem to be interested in it. The cold, dry air nipped at her already-red-and-chapped nose and lips, but the young teen didn't seem to care. Her eyes seemed fixated on the road that was the quickest way to the middle and two elementary schools.

Reid walked over from inside. "Here you are! I thought you..." A look from Amy silenced him. "You're right. I knew you were out here."

Amy nodded. "There's no point in lying to each other, Dr. Reid, if we can read our lies."

"That's very wise for your age," Reid pointed out.

"A lot of people say I am. My mother, my two favorite teachers Mrs. Meyes and Mr. Bronsky, my old English teacher Mr. Fallow, well, _all_ of my teachers, really, Rebecca, Dom, Rachel, Aunt Clara and Uncle Lars, you, everyone seems to tell me that. But if I'm so wise beyond my years, how come it takes these...experiences for me to show it?" Amy said. "I want to be able to live the rest of my life with whomever I have left, and that is pretty much no one! I don't want to go to some orphanage or be passed around from foster care to foster care like a meaningless rag doll. I want to know that I am _cared_ for and that my talents and abilities are actually worth something. I want to have all of this, and so much more, but this...murderer doesn't seem to want me to have any of it! If he hates me, I wish he'd consider his lesson taught! If he loves me, I wish he'd give up on me and concentrate his pedophilia on someone he doesn't have to kill for! I mean for crying out loud, he probably doesn't even know me!" All her anger and frustration, sadness and confusion, all the emotions she had held back had been released, and soon Reid found himself holding the young girl again as she cried into his coat.

Reid struggled to find the right words to say. "I know it's tough. It's always tough for witnesses and family members and loved ones to lose someone or watch someone die, but you are doing the right thing. All you can do is continue living and going about your business until and after this man is caught."

Amy looked up at the agent with shining, tear-filled eyes. "How? How do you know he'll be caught until he has everyone he wants dead? For all we know, I might be at the end of that list. What will you all do then, when he stops killing?"

Reid put his finger under her chin in what he felt was a rather fatherly gesture. "We'll just have to hope it doesn't get that far."

Amy smiled slightly as Reid wiped her tears away with a tissue he pulled from his pocket (he just knew he'd need them if he was to be around her). Suddenly, a loud _boom! _pierced the air, causing Amy and Reid to duck into each other - her clutching her ringing ears, he wrapping his arms around her - as they looked to the sky as a column of smoke and sparks shot into the crisp January air. With the thunderous boom and lightning-like sparks came an ash and debris rain, bits of charred wood falling from the sky. Both Reid and Amy stood slowly, releasing their grasps on each other - and, in Amy's case, her ears - and looked at each other with wide eyes.

"Was that-" Reid started.

"-the school?" Amy finished.

"If so it's a darned good thing you didn't go," Reid said.

Amy closed her eyes. "If you wish to swear at times like these, go on ahead. I could care less if anyone swears around me as long as they have proper meanings and reasoning to be." Opening her eyes, she added, "But you are right. We're going to have to thank Agent Hotchner for that one."

"Why don't you? It's your life," Reid said, but they walked quickly back inside the building behind them.

* * *

**Friday, January 4th, 2012 8:45 AM  
The remains of Bethel Middle School, Bethel, Connecticut**

Hotch and JJ pulled up to the wreckage as Morgan and Emily walked over to the firemen on the scene. All of the schools in the rest of the area were being evacuated under lockdown procedure, with police and FBI agents accompanying each bus until it reached the hub.

Hotch nearly flew from the car over to Emily and Morgan. "What the hell happened here?"

Morgan shook his head. "We have no clue. Definitely some kind of explosive on the inside detonated most likely from the outside, if we're right."

"We're hoping we're not, because either way, so far there are no survivors," Emily said as JJ walked over.

Hotch closed his eyes for a moment, then opened them, showing his stress. "Where's Rossi?" he managed to say.

"On his way from Danbury Hospital's morgue. It seems that Rebecca hadn't died instantly, and was rushed there before she died. Blood loss, no doubt," JJ said, hanging up her cell phone. "Reid is on his way from the police station with Detective Mike DeLawrence, and they should be here in five minutes."

Hotch nodded, then stated grimly, "If this is only a show for us, I wish the unsub had picked a less drastic, dramatic, deadly route to go about it."

"What do you mean?" Emily asked.

Morgan was reading his PDA when he said, "There were at least eight hundred people in that building, most under the age of fifteen." He looked up, putting his device away. "If there are no survivors, then our unsub either has more than one target, or really wants to punish Amy, because there is no way she could know every single person in that building."

An SUV marked **BETHEL POLICE** drove up with Reid in the passenger seat. A greying man who must have been in his fifties sat at the wheel and parked the vehicle directly next to the caution tape fifteen feet away from the rest of the team. No one's mood improved when they saw Amy sitting in the backseat, eyes widening.

Reid opened the door for the girl, and walked over with the driver and Amy. "We heard and saw...oh my God." Even the genius was at a lack for words at the charred remains of the school. The stairs weren't even up all the way anymore, and would probably never be able to support another human being again. The weight each crumbling staircase held was obviously too much, and all that was were the bodies and remains of some of those who had been in the building.

* * *

Amy was in worse of a state. The crumbling building, the blood everywhere, the bodies, everything was too reminiscent of the train a year ago. The memory turned the school into the train, the woodsy parking lot into the woods around the tracks. The only thing that was missing was the man fleeing the scene from the left, shouting he'd see her again, that it was nice to see her again, hinting that he loved her, that he hated her, that she deserved what he was doing to her, that she was the one doing it to herself by being so attractive. The memory faded, and she collapsed to the ground, eyes wide with shock, sadness, and despair as the day-mare proceeded to unfold its horrifying bounty. Mrs. Meyes, Mr. Bronsky, Mr. Fallow, Cameron Bronsky, the orchestra and guitar teacher's son, Natalie, the sixth grader she was teaching how to play the piano, everyone that had been in that school was gone and never coming back. Each of their faces played against the sky as she screamed. The last time she had with her best friends before the night of their cruel murder played in snippets, with Annabelle skipping in a cream dress through a green field and Rebecca laughing as she ate a cucumber and cheese sandwich like the ones her mother always made for her, Shelly and Sarah laughing as Arthur hung one of the yogurt spoons on his nose while he wore a white suit and they matching lacy cream dresses. All of them suddenly were splattered with blood, broken, and dead as the green field that had never existed changed into the school cafeteria from the Tuesday before the snow, their cream and white outfits changing to red hoodies and sweatshirts, jeans, Converse sneakers with rainbow, finger-knit laces, pink and blue lacy tops and black denim skirts with teal and grey leggings. Amy still screamed, the world around her going numb as the pain she had evaded by choosing constant day over endless night found her and unleashed its fury of neglect. Domonick and Grace played with her little purple elephant stuffed animal Amy had gotten her for her first birthday and a little pink bunny and a blue giraffe while Rachel baked cookies and brownies in the kitchen as Amy did her homework late one night, Aunt Clara and Uncle Lars laughing and kissing at Christmastime when they gave each other their gifts and gave Amy her iPod Touch which she had in her coat pocket, Mr. Fallow taught her class, making everyone laugh as he changed voices while reading _The Outsiders_ by S. E. Hinton out loud, Mr. Bronsky asking Amy to stand up and play her little melody in the piece they were working on in orchestra, and smiling when her little viola sang with a heart of its own. Amy cried and screamed still, never feeling herself writhing on the ground as if someone were torturing her. The memories continued to play. Her cousins, Damien and Ben, Drew and Laura, playing in the backyard when they were six, her uncle Fred teaching her all sorts of different art styles and ending with splatter painting a giant canvas and making pictures from the splatter, Grace learning to walk, then learning to read with Amy and Domonick, Rachel volunteering to take Amy to Cape Cod for the weekend with Domonick and Grace while her mother worked to support her and herself. Amy's screaming ended, but the racking sobs and fountains of tears did not stop as the numbness faded, leaving the pain to ebb and flow through her veins and muscles, causing her to absent-mindedly curl into a little ball as Hotch yelled at Reid for bringing her. Their argument may have been on another planet for all Amy knew, for her mother was washing and braiding her hair, teaching her to ride a bike, giving her a hug and kiss before leaving her at daycare so she could go to work, helping her brush her teeth when she wanted to learn, laughing with her as they watched a movie, crying with her when the sad parts came. The time Amy got her laptop, her first award at school, the times she won the spelling bees and the math competitions, geography bees and field hockey games, orchestra concerts and birthday parties, all with friends and family at her side or in the audience, cheering and clapping and crying and laughing and singing and dancing and making more memories that Amy could never forget. As Reid finally won the argument he held above her, Amy's cries and sobs died to no more than whimpering as she watched all of those who were still alive that didn't stand a chance against the killer. Her dance class, with Stan Fields, the instructor, at the top of the list, no doubt. Various members of the police, including Detective DeLawrence, her DARE officer from fifth grade before they had to stop it due to a lack of funds. The FBI agents trying to help find the killer, with Dr. Reid, the man she found more fatherly as he seemed to know what she was going through, what with sharing an eidetic memory and all, and sweet Agent Jareau, stern but kind Agent Prentiss, Agent Hotchner, and even Agents Morgan and Rossi. All of them would be dead, a bullet in their skull or heart, perhaps, or even a knife to the throat. The more the pain forced Amy to see these painful events the more she felt guilty of crimes she knew she did not commit. These people had died because of her, her existence. None of those children in the school would be dead if she hadn't existed. None of those families she had hurt by her existence with the train would be accusing her or mad at her for surviving something their loved ones didn't. One day her mother could have talked to the press about her new album or a book she wrote. Domonick could still be trying to make that million and become the first person in Bethel with one million dollars, maybe even more. Rachel and Grace could still read to each other eventually, set out homemade cookies for Santa, eat brownies once home from daycare and work, play with maybe a green teddy bear or a purple monkey instead of the stuffed animals Amy had bought her. None of their deaths would have happened if she never existed, the pain told her. They'd all still be alive.

Finally Reid had helped JJ help Amy out of her curled-up position on the ground and the two started to try to get the young teen to come back to them as Rossi drove up and Hotch walked briskly over to him. Morgan and Emily started talking to one of the medical examiners, who claimed that three people were missing, but one had not been in the school to start with.

The pain slowly ebbed from Amy's limbs, allowing her to wipe her now-open eyes as she sat up slowly. She couldn't look at the school anymore, she couldn't look at the things that seemed to occupy Hotch and Rossi, because all of those things were shrouded in death. She squinted and felt around for her glasses, which she hadn't known had fallen off until the pain let the world back in. JJ handed them to her silently, and Amy thanked her as she put them on. The two agents on her sides helped her back to her feet, only to have her turn around and sit on a tree stump facing the woods.

Reid sat next to her (it was an awfully big tree stump), putting his arm around her shoulders. "Is everything alright?"

Amy sniffed a little, pulling out a polishing cloth for her glasses. "Yeah. Well, no. Nothing will be now. Nothing ever will be."

"I know. You'll just have to make the most of it and start over, I guess," Reid said, but his false-encouragement tone was not lost to her.

"No, you don't know, because you don't know what this man will do next. I thought we'd agreed not to lie to each other because we both can see through it," Amy said, looking into the young agent's eyes. "When was the last time you decided to have fun with people you don't see at work? Friends you made outside of the place where you live most of your daily life?"

Reid opened his mouth to reply, but Amy cut him off. "People you aren't related to?"

She had a point. When was he not with the people he saw at work all the time? When was he not alone or with his mother in Las Vegas, one of the only getaway places he had outside of Quantico? "I couldn't tell you," he finally said.

She looked away, the studious look off her face. "You and I both. The only time I ever got to be around people I wasn't in school with or related to I was at dance class or at some concert or somewhere else being the entertainment, never the entertained. So little made me happy then because so little happened. Now this has happened" - she gestured to the school behind her - "and now I'm the center of attention. All of Bethel knows my face and name, and that's not what I wanted. Sure, I wanted to be famous, but not in this way."

Reid looked at the ground, contemplating what she said.

Just then, Hotch walked over, and JJ left the three of them alone. "I believe Amy should either stay away from this, or find another place where she won't have to worry about being...so affected by the circumstances."

Reid turned to Amy. "Where would you like to go?"

The young girl pulled an iPod Touch from her pocket and checked the time. "At three thirty I have dance."

"I think you should stay away from any place where the unsub could find you or people you are around," Hotch said. "Let's find a distraction, perhaps?"

Amy shook her head. "At three thirty I have dance. I have a pretty good role in the recital, and I would hate to miss rehersal. Besides, none of the cast members have been killed yet, so I think we all still stand a chance. If you do not believe that it will be a distraction, why don't you sit and watch. I highly doubt Stan would mind an audience."

"Stan?" Reid asked.

"Yes. He's my dance instructor, and the owner of the studio," Amy said, standing, as Hotch blocked her view of the school's remains.

Something cracked inside of Hotch in that moment as he looked down on Amy's petite figure. Something about her eyes that told quite a story caught his attention. Or was it her gentle expression that was opposite of those emotion-filled voids that seemed to call a memory to the front of his mind? It was a happy memory, though, but one he still had to push away, even though Hailey was not there anymore. Still, Hotch didn't feel Jack would want to know what he realized, so Hotch shifted his memory to the back of his mind again and said, "So in the meantime what will you do?"

Amy contemplated what he had asked before saying, "I wonder if Bethel Music would mind if I played some of their instruments for a little while. I have been dying to practice several songs lately, even though I will not be tested anymore on them."

Reid looked to Hotch for approval. The older agent nodded, so Reid said, "Then to Bethel Music it is."

* * *

**Okay, I know, the ending of this chapter is rather...bland, to say the least, but I didn't want to end it on too much of a negative note. That, and I wanted to move on in the next chapter. And if you are wondering about Hotch's memory, you will find out eventually, I promise you that.**


	7. Six

**Friday, January 4th, 2012 3:04 PM  
Private Dance Studio, Newtown, Connecticut**

The instant Hotch pulled the key from the ignition Amy was out of her seat and on the sidewalk, walking quickly towards the brown building in front of them. At the glass door a man in his early fifties waited with arms extended.

"Amy!" he said, wrapping her in a hug, his deep voice rich as chocolate. "I was almost afraid I'd have to rehearse the understudy!"

Amy laughed. "You know this is therapeutic for me, Stan." She let go as the two agents walked closer.

Stan seemed a little wary. "You brought...guests."

"I know it _won't_ be a problem, Stan," she said, almost as if making up his mind. "Stan, allow me to introduce Dr. Spencer Reid and Agent Aaron Hotchner."

Hotch reached out his hand, which Stan returned heartily. "Are you sure you won't mind us being here?" Hotch asked.

Stan laughed. "No, Amy's right. I was...just surprised, that's all. I take it you two are here in regards to all the murders around here lately."

Hotch nodded. "Do you mind if we ask you a couple things-"

"After class you may, yes," Stan answered. "Amy, go get changed and warmed up quickly. We're already late." Amy smiled and walked quickly yet gracefully through the studio to the changing rooms.

Five minutes later, Reid walked over to Hotch, who had himself situated in a chair in the corner. "Hotch," he started, but Hotch didn't seem to want to go on with what he was going to start to talk about.

"Is that a one-sided mirror?" he asked, pointing to the wall where Stan stood talking to one of the dancers, holding a to-go cup of coffee. A few feet away was a small mirror on the wall that one girl was using to help pin her hair up while the others warmed up.

Reid shook his head. "I don't think so. Hotch-"

"No, I guess you're right. I just caught a look at a hook underneath it. You were saying?" Hotch said, seeming totally sidetracked.

Reid shook his head. "Nevermind. I guess it wasn't important. I lost it," he lied.

Hotch studied the young agent closely, then said, "Whenever you remember, just tell me."

Reid nodded. "Okay."

Just then, Amy walked out of the changing rooms in a black leotard, white tights, and holding pink ballet slippers.

"Toe shoes," Reid said quietly.

Hotch looked at him like he was nuts. "Are you alright, Reid?"

Reid laughed a little. "Yeah! No, Amy was telling me before that she had done several different types of dance, but the class she continued always kept her 'on her toes,' she said with a laugh. Now I get her pun."

Hotch nodded slightly. "Toe dancing."

* * *

Stan put his coffee down on a small table, took off his sweater and scarf, and hopped up onto the dance floor where dancers of both genders quickly walked to their positions. Amy swung her right leg onto the bar, reached for the ground, then switched legs and did the same.

"Ready Amy?" Stan asked, and the young teen nodded, walking over to the edge of the floor. "Now, André and Jon aren't here just yet, so, for time's sake, I'll just fill in his part," Stan said.

"And Kyle...ah, there you are! Alright, we can begin," Amy said as a boy she called Kyle hopped up onto the floor, waving.

Stan pulled a tiny remote from his back pocket, pressed a few buttons, then put it away as music began to play. Amy smiled, closed her eyes, and let everything go, allowing herself to fully concentrate only on the music, her limbs responding on their own memorization. As Kyle lifted her with ease and twirled her with grace, all she concentrated on was the music and the meaning behind the dance.

As Kyle dipped her for what would be the last time for quite some time in the dance, Amy prepared herself for Stan's entrance. She was used to the awkward grace of André or Jon's leap, but was not ready for the slight change Stan had in mind. Instead, he simply stepped out onto what would be visible stage, and reached for Amy's hand, a slight smile Amy took to be reassuring but oddly so on his face. Amy just returned her hand to his, gracefully flitting into his arms as they prepared for the lift. The music reached its peak volume-wise, and elegantly portrayed what Stan had hoped to carry out onstage: a love triangle between two young men and one woman, with the woman showing her affection to the man who would bend all the rules just to have the woman's hand and heart in his at the moment. She spun away to Kyle, who knelt for her in what was supposed to be a pleading gesture - it seemed more "Wow," than "Please!" to Amy - then leaped back into Stan's arms as Kyle rose, "showed off," then stood in waiting as Stan lifted Amy once more, tossed her gently into Kyle's arms, and then "showed off" himself. Once he kneeled, Amy took three dainty steps in accordance with the music, and allowed him to do the last lift between the two...when Stan collapsed, thrusting Amy into Kyle's unprepared arms.

"Stan!" Amy gasped, but remained still as he grabbed his leg, his...his _right_ leg...

Hotch seemed to not notice Amy's shocked expression as he got up from his chair and asked, "Are you alright?"

Stan nodded, but his face contorted with pain. "Yeah. Just angered an old injury from childhood, that's all."

"Childhood?" Amy whispered slightly, her expression remaining.

"I'm alright, Amy. Relax! You look as if you've seen a ghost!" Stan said as Hotch helped him to his feet. Kyle walked over then with the cane Stan kept in his office. "Thank you."

"It's a good thing you kept that in there, huh Stan?" one of the girls-Casey-asked.

"Right you are, Casey. Dance can be full of injuries, but this one here is prone to acting up lately," Stan replied.

"Maybe you should stay off it for a while," Amy said, her eyes not leaving his right leg.

Stan looked at the girl with an expression that said otherwise. "If I do, my job will never be done. You can't show the class things you don't know, can you?"

"But I can always try to understand," Amy replied, then looked up at the clock.

"Class is dismissed until -" Stan started, but just then two boys raced in through the door, fully dressed for dance class. André and Jon had finally arrived.

"Sorry we're late, Stan. Mom got stuck in traffic," André said, then walked over to Amy and the two greeted each other like they always did, with a kiss on each cheek like André's sisters would to her.

"Yeah, and I had to walk," said Jon, putting his bag down by the mirror hanging on the wall.

Stan nodded. "Alright then, class is not dismissed, then." He walked off the stage, sat down next to the stereo, then pressed repeat. "From the top."

André quickly flitted to where he started, with Jon going to the back, and soon Amy found herself twirling again, forgetting everything that had happened, letting her muscles take over, as long as the music kept playing.

* * *

**Author's Note:**

**I'm sorry this is so short today, but I got all the information I wanted to be out there so far in this chapter. I might add another chapter later, but I'm not garunteeing anything today. So happy reading!**


	8. Seven

**Author's Note:**

**Rebecca1, I am very glad you are enjoying the story so far. This chapter is dedicated to you and my friend AC. :)**

**Prepare for an interesting twist!**

* * *

**Friday, January 4th, 2012 5:32 PM  
Private Dance Studio, Newtown, Connecticut**

Amy felt more relaxed after dance, but in the dressing rooms she still didn't feel quite right. Maybe it had to do with the fact that everyone remained quiet as they changed, or that once Amy was done, everyone kept saying how sorry they were for her losses, then hurrying away as if she carried a dangerous, uncurable disease. Once everyone minus Stan, Hotch, and Reid were gone, Amy leaned her head against a wall in the office exclusively for her own use and closed her eyes.

Stan found her, of course, and knocked on the door before entering, turning on the light with his cane. "Thought I might find you in here," he said, sitting down in a chair at the front of the desk, in front of where Amy normally sat. "I know it's hard, believe me, I know. Your family and some of your friends were very close to me as well as you. However, we just have to admit that they are in a better place, with no war nor poverty nor illness or discrimination to worry about."

Amy opened her eyes and looked into Stan's grey-green ones. "I wonder how far this guy plans on going."

Stan's eyes narrowed in confusion. "What do you mean?"

"I mean, will he stop once the people in this state at the time are dead, or is he going to hire someone to kill the people I know in Germany, or Vermont, or Maine, or Colorado, or Florida, or Australia, for that matter. Will he wait until before you leave for England, or is he going to wait until I'm not around and kill you when you're there? Honestly, Stan, I keep thinking of how when you fell it looked almost like Rebecca falling. It was her right leg, too, that had the torn muscle." Tears started to spurt from her eyes. "I mean, soon he's going to be finding other ways to hurt me if he hates me, or he might abduct me soon if he loves me!"

Stan put his arm on her shoulder. "I'd never let him do that, sweetheart. If you want, I can cancel my trip to England and go after this monster's caught."

Amy looked at him through tear-strained eyes. "You'd really do that?"

Stan smiled. "Of course I would." With that, he gave her a kiss on the head before saying, "I'll always be here for you, remember that. Why don't you take whatever you want to keep from here home tonight? I'm thinking of relocating anyways, so you might as well get started. Put it all in boxes that say AMY on them and I'll put them away somewhere so you can go through them again later and decide what goes where in the new location."

Something about what he said didn't make sense, but she went along with it. "Okay. Sure," she said, then began to put items from the desk and walls into the boxes in the corner as Stan left the room.

* * *

**Friday, January 4th, 2012 8:47 PM  
Private Dance Studio, Newtown, Connecticut**

The man shuffled in carefully through the back door, as the dancers of Amy's class and their parents had gathered in the front dance studio. Locking the door quietly behind him, he pocketed his keys and headed inside to the back office where Stan Fields kept his bills and other papers. He turned on the light once inside, and was happy to find it empty. Turning off the light and closing the door, he turned around to find one of the dancers behind him.

"Are you going to join us? Amy should be here soon!" he said.

The man laughed. "I will, in a few minutes, although I highly doubt she'll want to see me. Go back and join everyone. I hear them calling for you."

The kid fell for it and raced back into the studio as the man closed the door to the studio and locked it. Then, opening the door to Stan Fields' office, he took all the extra papers outside in the hallway and tossed them inside. He walked back in and found photos of all the students on Stan's desk, and took the ones of Amy, cutting out her picture if she was with anyone other than Stan. He tossed the photos and frames into his bag, then pulled out his matches, lighting them all and tossing them around the room. He quickly raced out, closed and locked the door, and dashed to his van. He dumped the bag in the back, pulled out his large hooded jacket, shoved it on, pulled down the hood, and closed the doors. Then, heading to the front, locked the front doors when no one was looking, and raced back to the van and drove away quickly as the building began to smoke in places, leaving those inside in a state of panic.

* * *

**Friday, January 4th, 2012 8:55 PM  
On the road to the Private Dance Studio, Newtown Connecticut**

Amy sat in the backseat of Hotch's black SUV next to Reid as Hotch drove past her church on the way to the party the dance studio was holding for her. It was supposed to be a surpise, but Reid quickly spilled the secret after Amy kept reminding him they weren't lying to each other anymore.

"I can't believe Stan would want to throw a party for me. He should know I hate them this late, at least," she commented as Hotch turned down the road leading to the studio.

"He was only trying to be nice," Hotch said.

Reid chuckled. "Yeah, after you suggested it."

Amy was about to respond angrily when a bright light caught her eye. "What in the..."

There, where the dance studio should have been, was a flaming mess.

Firefighters from all over Newtown raced about, trying to put out the fire, but it was obviously too late. Two ambulances were sitting idle as bodies were pulled out of some areas, each person's familiar face covered in soot and in some cases blood. Twice a body was carried over to a stretcher and loaded onto a stretcher, carried away by the ambulances, but that was it. No one else came out alive.

Amy was beyond screaming in agony at the chaos that unfolded even after the blaze had been put out. André and Kyle had been in there. The two of them cared immensely for her, and would do anything to help her in any way she needed it. Stan, the man who had not been afraid to die for knowing her, had been in there. Sure, he'd thrown the party, but there was no way for him to know it would turn out like this!

Hotch, however, felt terribly guilty. "I should have known it was the perfect way for the murderer to strike," he said as the rest of the team pulled up at the site.

Rossi raced over to him. "What happened?"

Hotch shook his head. "I don't know, no one knows yet. But we can all guess it had to do with her involvement here. All the dancers she danced with as well as the owner of the studio were there. The owner called me once he got there, saying everyone was accounted for and that it was time to bring Amy."

"This was your idea? I mean, the party was your idea?" Rossi asked him.

"I didn't know this would happen. I should have suspected it, at least!" Hotch said, tears forming in his eyes.

Rossi led him farther away from everyone as well as the wreck of the studio. "How close are you to Amy, Hotch?"

"Not very. I met her the same day you did," Hotch replied, but there was obviously something biting at him.

"Aaron," Rossi said, and Hotch looked his friend and co-worker in the eyes. "As a friend, how are connected to her?"

Hotch looked away, then started to explain. "After a while of marraige before we had Jack, Hailey and I were kind of distant. I was on a case here in Connecticut when Amy's mother came to me. We talked, she bought me drink after drink, until finally we agreed to go to her apartment. I returned home once the case was done, hoping never to return. Weeks later, I get a letter in the mail from her, complaining about how I hadn't visited. I explained why in another letter, sent it from the BAU, and forgot about it. Months later, she writes me again, saying how annoyed she was that I didn't seem to care about them. I wrote back instantly, asking what she meant by 'them.' A few days later, I recieved copies of an ultrasound."

Rossi's eyes widened. "An ultrasound?"

Hotch nodded. "I never replied, but I kept those copies in a compartment in my office in Quantico, and soon added the yearly photo of her with a note saying how much she hated that I couldn't be there for them, but that I 'deserved to be able to see our little girl growing up the right way.' I never thought I'd have to see her. Her birth was a mistake, a slip-up in my marriage to Hailey. If Jack hadn't been born, I don't think I could ever have faced Hailey at all, but at least I had one way to repair the damage I had unknowingly done."

Rossi's eyes remained wide. "Amy's...your daughter?"

Hotch nodded. "And now I just hurt her more than words can say. She cared about the people in there. However our unsub knew that everyone would be in there right now is beyond me, but he still knew, and it's my fault because I came up with the idea."

It was obvious Hotch was in distress, so Rossi stayed by his side until Morgan came over to them.

"Hey, what's going on?" the agent asked.

"Just under some emotional stress. Too many people died in too short a time," Rossi said. Hotch silently thanked him.

Morgan said, "I hear you, man. Listen, the two kids they rushed to the hospital, a Kyle Ford and an André Velero? Well, they just died in surgery. And we can't accound for Stan's body, meaning he either wasn't there or was abducted."

Hotch turned to look at him. "He had to have been there. He called me and said that he was there, everyone was accounted for, and that I should drive Reid and Amy over."

"Either that or he was lying," Morgan said, but the thought was dismissed by Hotch.

"Impossible. I'd know if that man was lying," Hotch said, and ended the conversation by walking over to Emily and starting to talk about a place for Amy to stay for the night.


	9. Eight

**Author's Note:**

**Thank you for your quick reviews, angel2u and Paige-Rawr. For those of you shocked by Hotch's revelation, could you imagine if it was actually part of the TV series? That would be an interesting episode! At least for me it would be.**

**This chapter includes a very strong bonding moment between Amy and Reid that I cannot help but love. I hope you all will, too.**

* * *

**Saturday, January 5th, 2012 3:12 AM  
Best Western Hotel in Stony Hill, Bethel, Connecticut**

Reid woke in a cold sweat. He could have sworn the Raphael part of Tobais Hankle had just pulled the trigger and it turned out to be a live bullet. Taking in his bland surroundings, Reid remembered where he was and that he was still alive. Against the wall parallel to his bed on the far side of the room was a table under the window, and sitting at it was Amy. That was his proof the nightmare had been just that, a nightmare, nothing more.

"Finally woke up?" she asked quietly. "Nightmares get you?"

Reid nodded, pulling the blankets up more as a cold breeze came in through the open window. "Why'd you open the window?"

Amy rose and closed it. "I figured it might help you wake up. A change in temperature usually does the trick for me, or a sturdy hand on my shoulder, but with someone I barely know, I'm tentative to touch them to wake them, no matter how bad their nightmare is."

Reid sat up in the hotel bed and switched on the light next to him. A dim yellow light flickered then brightened slowly. "How do you do it?"

Amy asked, "Do what?"

"Stay up all night to keep away the nightmares," Reid clarrified, and Amy collapsed in the chair she had been sitting in.

"A year of practice and constant nightmares. Sometimes the nightmare wouldn't let me wake up, and I'd end up late to school, but the school was always very good about it, understanding by my alertness that I couldn't wake up. Now that I don't ever really sleep, I can stay away from my nightmares, but yesterday at the school...they all came back, but worse."

"How do you not sleep, though? It doesn't make sense," Reid asked, slowly waking up fully.

Amy shifted in her seat, then stood and walked over to the bed parallel to his. "I do, sort of. At night I take thirty minute naps when I'm alone. That way the nightmares never have a chance of developing."

"Does it work?"

The girl shook her head. "Not always. Sometimes I get them anyways, so I make myself some tea or coffee and I stay up. If I had my laptop or Kindle it would be easier, but all I have is my iPod Touch with me now, and it just died an hour ago. That and music helps me relax. I don't have any music that wakes me up because when I got it, I didn't need to wake up. I needed to have fun and relax because my life was so hectic."

Reid waited a minute to let what she said sink in. "Where's your laptop, Kindle, and iPod charger, then?"

"They're all in a shoulder bag I carry with me always at Annabelle and Arthur's house, which is now a crime scene, remember?"

Reid nodded, even though he already knew it was a crime scene. "Is it worth it, staying up all night?"

Amy thought hard for a while. "Sometimes," she said finally. "Sometimes I convince myself that they never happened, and then I do something fun on my laptop like writing stories for kids to enjoy or designing pretty tablecloth designs or book covers or download a new app on my iPod or a new book on my Kindle and forget for a while, but nothing's ever truly forgotten. Then I'll ease myself to sleep and wake up with the sun and a short, quiet scream, then start a new day the same as the last."

Reid thought about what she said for a while, then got out of bed, turned on the ceiling light, and hunted for his laptop bag. Plugging it into the outlet by the small table, he had Amy sit across from him. "What two-player game would you like to play?"

"Chess," Amy said with a smile, and Reid happily began to turn on the laptop, log in, and start the game.

* * *

**Saturday, January 5th, 8:02 AM  
(Same Location)**

Hotch sat down at a four-chair table across from Rossi, nursing his coffee. "I had a lousy night last night."

"So did I," said Rossi, who folded the paper and started eating a muffin-and-cheese-danish breakfast with a cup of coffee. "So did we all." He gestured to Morgan, who walked over and plopped himself into a chair at Hotch and Rossi's table.

"Can someone please tell me we do not have another murder today?" Morgan asked, rubbing his eyes. "Yesterday was killer."

Rossi nodded grimly. "I agree. However, with five people missing-"

"Wait, _five _people are missing?" Morgan asked, shocked.

JJ and Emily walked over carrying pastries, bagels, and coffee as Rossi said, "Yeah, Cameron Bronsky went missing last night as well as Stan Fields. His mother said he went berserk when he found out his father was missing and he hadn't been in school. His mother, Candice Bronsky, kept telling us how much Cameron and her husband, David Bronsky, meant to her, and to not have them anymore...long story short, she's upset, his father was one of the teachers in the school that we couldn't locate, and now he's gone."

"That's too much of a coincidence for it to be not related," Morgan said, seeming to recall what Rossi was saying. "Do we know how close this Cameron was to Amy?"

Hotch shook his head. "No, but I'm sure it was no more than a modest friendship, and possibly a little middle school crush, but that kind of stuff never amounts to much unless it's possibly in high school," he said, sipping his coffee, thinking of Hailey and his betrayal.

The five agents continued to eat their breakfast in silence. Five minutes later, Reid and Amy come over, carrying their breakfasts. Amy held a meager yogurt, muffin, and coffee, while Reid held a bagel, coffee, danish, and a banana.

The two pushed over a table and sat. "So," Reid said between bites of his bagel. "how was everyone's night?"

Amy chuckled, picking at her muffin.

Morgan yawned, stretching. "At one point, I could have sworn someone was screaming or crying or something while I slept, but I couldn't be sure who it was."

Amy stared at her muffin. "I kinda conked out at one point. Sorry. But if there was any wimpering, that was probably Dr. Reid."

Reid hung his head sarcastically. "Guilty."

JJ, Rossi, Morgan, Emily, and Amy laughed.

Hotch smiled. "It seems everyone had a rough night."

JJ sighed. "I know I didn't exactly. I tossed and turned a lot, Emily said, but I slept alright."

Emily smiled weakly. "I know I sure didn't. I barely got a wink of sleep last night."

"You should have joined us around three thirty. We ended up playing all sorts of different games on his laptop," Amy piped in.

Reid nodded. "Yeah. Next time you can't sleep, come find us. We're not but a room away!"

Everyone laughed, but there laughter ended very quickly, as Amy suddenly turned grim.

"What's wrong?" JJ asked.

"Colorado, Germany, Florida, Vermont, Maine, England, Australia, Pakistan, Massachusetts," she said. "A few months ago, several individuals were killed in those states and countries. Connecticut was his last stop." Amy looked up. "The dance studio was the last attempt. That means you all are next."


	10. Nine

**Author's Note:**

**Thinking in advance here, but I'm kind of curious. Should I do two sequels to this one, meaning the other two thirds of my ideas for Amy's story after the murderer is caught get to come out and play, only one sequel, or should I just end it all in one book? Leave your suggestion in the Review box - I'm not doing a poll just yet, but soon I will.**

**Also, I made a mistake, but I kinda don't feel like changing it, so I'm just adding it here: there are _currently_ only four people missing, not five: Mrs. Meyes, Mr. Bronsky, Stan Fields, and Cameron Bronsky. I forgot I killed Mr. Fallow in the explosion. My bad (I kinda didn't want to, but I had to make the decision in the murderer's frame of mind)!**

* * *

**Saturday, January 5th, 2012 8:47 AM  
Bethel Police Station, Bethel, Connecticut**

Amy and Reid walked into Hotch's makeshift office with Detective DeLawrence, Rossi, and Morgan. JJ and Emily were already inside, pinning up photos of the four missing people on a bulletin board parallel to the door. Amy paused to stare at the new additions of Stan and Cameron. The man and boy had been very prominent figures in Amy's life. Stan was almost her second father, Cameron her second brother. She had begun to love Cameron like one, too, possibly even deeper. Now that her last solace was missing, who could she confide in? Tell her secrets to? Reid wasn't close enough to her for her to do that, and she didn't necessarily like Morgan too much. Hotch was too stern and serious, and Rossi...well, he seemed a bit too old, but someone trustworthy, like Stan. JJ and Emily, well, even though they were both female, Amy didn't know them too well, and didn't feel like entrusting herself to them just yet. Amy would have to wait and see.

Hotch began once everyone was seated. "I know we came in on short notice, Detective, but unfortunately all of us are now at greater risk than before."

Amy shook her head. "No, you're at the same risk as before, except now all of you are at the top of the list. I always make up the rear, no matter what. I refuse to let others take my place. No one should be in my place to begin with."

"Doesn't that mean the risk is higher?" Emily asked, shifting nervously in her seat.

Amy shook her head again. "Think about it this way: you are FBI agents. The murderer would have to be extremely careful if he didn't want to get caught. Either he's not going to kill you all directly, or he's going to wait for some time until you all forget about the case and myself."

Morgan laughed. "If anything, I'll be having nightmares about this case, not forgetting it."

Amy smiled nervously. "Yeah, me too."

Hotch turned to Amy suddenly and stared at her intently. "You could be it, you know."

Amy jumped. "What?"

"I said you could be the murderer."

Amy nearly screamed. "Me, murder people I know and love? Me, the girl able to be in two places at once? Agent Hotchner" - the agent stiffened as he realized what she said were true - "how could I, a thirteen-year-old girl, kill everyone I know and come up with a reasonable alibi to boot? Seriously, I'm not that creative when it comes to problem solving."

"You could be, though," Reid said suddenly. "I mean, you could be creative in problem solving with your eidetic memory and all, but..."

Detective DeLawrence picked up Reid's trail. "What the kid's saying is there is no way she can be the murderer. We've caught the man already."

Everyone - FBI agents and Amy - turned to the detective in shock. "What?" they exclaimed.

"A Francisco Vodka came by claiming he was the murderer. His story fits. He said he killed his captives minus Stan Fields, but would be willing to release him since he realized what he did was wrong," Detective DeLawrence explained.

Amy quickly asked, "What was his motive? Hate or love?"

"He said hate. Apparently you passed him on the streets one day and didn't bother to help him when he needed it. Some of his story sounds like lies, but I'm just glad he came forward with it."

Amy looked at the ground. "It can't be that easy," she whispered to herself.

"Well it just is," Hotch said, and walked from the room, dismissing everyone from the room

* * *

**Tuesday, January 17th, 2012 2:37 PM  
Court**

Amy listened to Francisco Vodka's testimony intently, but something wasn't right. At last minute she whispered something to her lawyer before he went up to cross-examine him.

After a few minutes, her lawyer said, "One more question. Would you please say something in your native accent?"

Francisco squirmed in his seat. "Certainly," he said, his voice tainted..._Russian? _Amy thought.

"Please repeat these sentences: I'll see you again, Amy."

The man spoke, but his voice did not match the voice Amy clearly heard in her head.

"Nice to see you again, Amy."

The man repeated it; the same thing as before.

"Thank you," Amy's lawyer said, then sat.

After the trial was over and the man was driven away, Amy found herself with her belongings - finally off the crime scene and out of evidence bags - and Reid, waiting in the lobby of the court. Hotch stood across the lobby, talking to Stan, who Amy eyed suspiciously.

Soon, Stan walked over with Hotch, who pulled Reid aside for a moment.

Stan hugged Amy. "It's so good to see you again, my little dancer."

Amy nearly choked on her words. "It's nice too see you, too. At least someone was saved."

"More than one someone, my dear," he whispered in her ear. Her eyes widened, but he put a finger to his lips. "It's our little secret."

Reid returned again. "Amy," he said, holding out his hand.

"Dr. Reid," she said, taking his hand. He pulled her into a hug.

"You're going with Stan now. He's become your legal guardian," Reid said.

Amy pulled away sharply. "What?"

Reid knelt down to look into her brown eyes better. "Ho-Agent Hotchner, I should say, thinks it would be best if you stayed with someone you know. I agree," he said, but then muttered, "Only slightly."

Amy's eyes began to water. "You can't make me go with him," she whispered as Stan walked over to Hotch again.

"Unfortunately, I have to. Agent Hotchner says I have to make sure you go."

"But you have the wrong man! He was part of it, yes, but he wasn't the true murderer! You can't make me go with Stan!" she said, tears running down her cheeks.

Reid struggled to compose himself. "We do?"

"Yes! I didn't recognize his accent! It's not the right one! He doesn't have a limp, either!" she explained. "But-but-but _Stan does_!"

Everything suddenly made sense to Reid. The falling, the tendency to hesitate on his words, the appearance of an accent coach in his records that Garcia found when Hotch first asked about him - no one knew until then - and his sudden appearance and his being the only one to survive. "Unfortuantely, they won't listen to you anymore. You had your appearance in court. Hotch won't let you. He won't listen to you anymore. I'm sorry."

Amy wiped her eyes. "Then you try. If you don't hear from me at all, you'll know it was Stan. You have to try. Please."

Reid nodded, his own eyes tearing up. "I will."

Hotch and Stan walked over, smiling and laughing as if they were good friends. "Ready to go, Amy?" Stan said.

"No, but I guess I have to," Amy said, then threw her arms one last time around Reid. "Goodbye, Dr. Reid."

"Goodbye, Amy. I'll look into that for you. And here," Reid placed something into her hand and wrapped her fingers around it. "Keep that for me, will you?"

Amy nodded, putting it in her coat pocket. Then, she walked off with Stan.

The last thing Reid heard before the lobby doors closed them off where Stan's words clearly in a British accent: "Now what was that all about?"


	11. Epilogue

**Author's Note:**

**Yes, I know, I'm sorry. Epilogue so soon after not being able to add anything in a while. I know, but I've been thinking (and having major writer's block). I've decided to make this a three-book series, so this epilogue is the last part to this one. So sorry to those who wanted it to stay one super-long book. Nothing would fit right if I made it one book, though. I'd have to cut out so many ideas, relocate chapters (not that anything's already laid in stone or anything), and so much other stuff. This is easier, and I personally hope this will be better!**

* * *

**Sunday, January 22th, 2012  
Somewhere in the wooded foothills of the Appalacians, United States**

_Dear Diary-no, this isn't a very dear possession. Let me start over._

_Diary-nor is this a diary, it's just a small notebook with the word JOURNAL inscribed on the velvet cover that Stan gave me a few weeks ago, as if his gift could repay the toll of the countless lives he's ended and destroyed, including my own. Let me start over one more time. I'll get it right this time. I promise._

_Journal,_

_It's been five days since I first arrived here, wherever "here" is. Stan got me to fall asleep without him falling asleep himself, and then transported me here somehow. I faintly recall him sitting me in the passenger seat of some van while I was still half asleep, but I don't know what happened after that. Yes, Stan was the murderer. He killed everyone I knew and cared for and even more people and children I didn't even know. I found out just two days ago that Mr. Bronsky, Cameron, and Mrs. Meyes are still alive and are being kept here just like me, but under much worse circumstances. They were abducted. Stan didn't become their official caretaker, like he did with me. I could easily say I've been abducted, though, but he took away my phone. Not that I'd have service down here where I spend all my time now._

_My room has no windows and only one door. There's a heat vent that turns on every two hours and thirty seven minutes exactly (I've been keeping track late at night when Stan goes to bed and locks me in here sometimes), a semi-comfortable bed, and a desk with a computer with no Internet access (no email, like I could email anyone since no one I have as a contact is still alive except Cameron and the two teachers here with me); a nightstand with notebooks, sketchbooks, photo albums (something I demanded be brought to me), scrapbooks and scrapbooking supplies, suduko, word search, and crossword puzzle books that I've already completed (did them all in three hours and twenty five minutes to be precise), and a variety of drawing and writing utensils with a pencil sharpener, too; this diary, a small closet without a door, and a bureau filled with clothes I'd probably never where period. Just goes to show how much I never knew about Stan._

_Stan. Every day since the day after I arrived here he's been showing his unyielding, horrifying love to me in various ways such as gifts and whatever other material things I could want, but also in more unspeakable ways. I'm still sore from his last "love session," as he calls them, and we still have dance lessons to do. Personally, I think I'd call these "love sessions" accordances with the Connecticut definition of rape. Actually, __any __definition of rape._

_Just last night I had to stand up for Mr. Bronsky and the others. Stan had brought me with him down to the basement where they're being kept, and Mr. Bronsky commented on my haggard and rather provocative appearance. Stan started to beat him when I shouted for him to stop. It got real quiet, then I continued, saying I'd hurt myself or run away or get myself killed somehow if he hurt them again. So far it's worked. I think he knows I will never be able to do that, but he keeps sharp things away from me and places his gun outside the basement door whenever we go down there "just in case I get any ideas," he said when I asked. I'm hoping I don't have to do that again._

_So I've settled unwillingly into this untimely schedule of food, music lessons (I never knew Stan was a talented musician. So much talent in the fine arts gone down the drain with the murders, abductions, and now the near-constant "love sessions"), rest, "love session," rest, dance lessons, rest, food, rest, repeat. Rest before "love sessions" isn't very long. It's more of a quick clensing and readying for the horrors he's about to commit._

_If only I could get out of here. If only he'd realize I don't, can't, and will never love him. Maybe he'd let me go. Maybe he'd kill me then kill himself. If only...I shudder to think that I am even thinking this...but, if only Dr. Reid were here. He'd make the pain slightly more bearable. Spencer Reid. What a kind man. The perfect role model. He's done much more to show any sort of emotion than what Stan could ever do, or would be capable or comfortable doing._

_Hmm...Dr. Spencer Reid. If he were ever to end up here, I'd never forgive myself. I would do anything and everything in my power to make sure he gets out alive, even if that means risking my life. No more people are going to die because of me. No more._

_Oh dear. Here comes Stan. I can hear his footsteps and that *cringe* rather beautiful whistle already. I'll keep this as a bookmark to let myself know where I am in my book and so that I can always remind myself someone out there is trying to bring me home alive...wherever home will end up being._

_Amy _

* * *

Stan touched the music notes Amy had drawn next to her name, along with the sun before looking at the item he had caught that fell out of the pages of the little journal. It was a silver locket with an inscription on the front. He carefully set the journal down and opened the little heart to find a photo of Reid on the right with a tiny note on the back of the photo, and on the left a tiny photo of her friends and family, obviously Photoshopped so they were all in there. Another note was on the back of that photo, but it's purple lettering was actually in English, so Stan could read that.

_To the little young lady Genius Man won't stop talking about.  
Hope this helps happy memories flood in!  
Penelope Garcia-FBI Analyst _

He quickly replaced the photo, scowling at the effect these agents had on _his_ girl. They should know she was off-limits! Only he could have her, and he would make sure of that. Words popped into his head along with Amy's neat enough cursive: _If only Dr. Reid were here._

Closing the locket, Stan placed it back into the journal and placed it exactly where she left it under the mattress on top of the boxspring. _If only Dr. Reid were here you say, Amy? Well, how would you like it if he came for a little visit, hmm?_

**End of Book One**

* * *

**In case anyone was wondering, the second book will be titled ****_Pain of an Eighth Grade Genius_****, and the third will be titled (once the second is finished) ****_Wounded_****. Check my profile for updates on the AUHL series and all others if you're interested. I will update it as soon as I can!**


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